


The Thoughts You Keep

by anaraine



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 07:26:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8569555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaraine/pseuds/anaraine
Summary: The quiet thoughts of Commander Bly. (Love can be found in unexpected places.)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady_Katana4544](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Katana4544/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [То, что держишь при себе](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13501394) by [Kalgary_Nurse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalgary_Nurse/pseuds/Kalgary_Nurse)



> Whoops, I decided that I desperately needed Bly to pine over General Secura for the entire story. Which makes this more of a pre-ship fic than anything - I hope you still enjoy this! (...there may be a second chapter arriving in the near future.)

It is a small sort of honor that a Jedi is being assigned to the 327th. There are far more Clones than there are Jedi, and even his designation as a Clone Commander does not guarantee anything beyond receiving orders from a small figure on a live holo. (The size of the 327th Star Corps was the only thing that kept Bly holding onto the faint hope that he would be given a chance to fight alongside a Jedi.)

General Aayla Secura will arrive to take direct command of the 327th today, and Bly is honestly looking forward to meeting her. It will be a change, an adjustment to the chain of command and how he interacts with his men, but he hopes it will be for the _better_. That the 327th will flourish under her leadership and be more equipped to serve in the defense of the Republic.

He keeps his eyes on the sky, waiting for his General's arrival, and is rewarded when a sharp movement in the corner of his peripheral vision catches his attention. Bly adjusts his stance to watch as an Aethersprite comes in for a landing, his spine straightening further as the starfighter settles inside the hangar bay doors of the _Liberty_.

The Jedi that emerges from the cockpit is somehow more impressive than he had imagined, even after receiving a quick brief from High Jedi General Windu. General Secura stands with her head held high, feet planted firmly as her gaze sweeps across the hangar and lands on him. She is dressed in a manner that was not covered in any of his courses on Kamino, but her clothing makes it very easy to see the definition of her muscles as she walks toward him, strength and grace in her every movement. The gestures her lekku make have him idly wishing he had studied Twi'leki before now, but he'll just have to add it to his never-ending list of reading material.

"General," he greets, snapping to attention as she comes within range.

"At ease, Commander." Her voice is smooth and firm, carrying loud enough that he can hear and obey without having to strain.

He falls into position smoothly, spreading his feet apart and clasping his hands behind his back. It feels a little like being back in training, which is patently ridiculous - perhaps he has spent too much time without any sort of direct authority checking his shit. He knows he is capable, but the Kaminoan instructors had told him again and again that personal pride and arrogance should hold no place in the personality of a commanding officer in the GAR.

"My name is Aayla Secura," she says, "Would you please remove your helmet and tell me whom I am addressing?"

Bly is grateful for the shield his bucket creates as he feels his cheeks warm - of _course_ she wouldn't know who he was, a single soldier out of all the CCs that belong to the 327th. He wills his flush to go down as he follows her orders, hooking his helmet on his belt and looking past her to focus on the hangar bay wall.

"CC-5052, sir. Commander of the 327th Star Corps."

He startles, slightly, as a slender finger touches his chin and tilts his face to meet her gaze. Her eyes are a lighter brown than his own, with little flecks of gold closer to her pupils.

"That is very helpful Commander, but I asked for your name, not your number." Her voice is still smooth, but hidden beneath it is a core of steel.

"Bly, sir," he says, and can only be grateful his reply did not come out as a hoarse whisper.

The General smiles and takes a step back. "Excellent. Commander Bly, if you would accompany me on an brief inspection of the _Liberty_ , I would take it as a personal favor. I believe we have much to discuss."

"Yes, sir," he says, and moves to fall in behind her.

General Secura pauses, and then turns her head to look him square in the eye. "At my side, if you please, Commander. You need never walk behind me."

She waits patiently as he moves forward enough to walk in step with her, their strides falling into perfect sync even before they hit the doors that lead to the main body of the ship.

It's right about there that Bly starts to fall in love.

◊◊◊

Bly tries hard to keep his feelings to himself. All of the cadets in the CC classes were given instructions on how to partition their thoughts, with the understanding that they were the ones most likely to be interacting with a Jedi and that the constant press of their emotions was likely to be exhausting.

Bly does not want to be a source of exhaustion for General Secura. He'd much rather be a source of her strength, someone that she can rely on, someone that is professional and helpful. The fluttery feeling in his stomach when she smiles at him is not professional _at all_ , and he regularly tries to tamp down on those emotions.

But she is so kind. Bly is only now starting to hear chatter about other Jedi Generals, as men from different companies and battalions are shuffled through the ranks. The knowledge that she uses their names, that she commits them to memory and never has to ask for them a second time is downright unbelievable for some of the older _vod'e_ that have been assigned to the 327th.

General Secura is professional and serene in public, but she is never _cold_. She takes the time to greet each new batch of shinies personally and always finds a reason to eat in the mess, lending her an air of approachability - problems that are brought directly to her attention are fixed that much faster.

And off duty, in the relative privacy of her quarters, Bly knows that General Secura mourns every man lost under her command. She tells him that the 327th can't afford to see her displaying that kind of weakness, and Bly understands, even if he doesn't agree. The 327th are _hers_. That kind of compassion, the knowledge that she will fight that much harder to keep them alive - it would only confirm that their loyalty is well placed.

Still, he never tries to push her into sharing her grief with the greater 327th. Bly has enough problems with his own feelings for General Secura - he has absolutely no desire to try and work through the feelings of shiny new troopers who claim to be in love with the General.

She's a Jedi Knight, and well on her way to becoming a Jedi Master if he's reading High Jedi General Windu right. She's made a commitment to the Jedi Order, and he knows how highly she honors her oaths. She is not available to enter relationships with _anyone_ , let alone a Clone.

He can admire that. He _does_ admire that. And if his heart has decided to hang itself on the star that is Jedi General Aayla Secura, well. He could do worse. But he's also _never_ going to bring it to her attention.

◊◊◊

Quell is a complete and total _shu'shuk_. Bly is grateful that General Skywalker was close enough to reinforce them, and he hopes that the _Resolute_ managed to evacuate as many of the 327th as they could find while striking back at the Seppies.

Skywalker has a reputation for refusing to abandon Clones to their fate, but he isn't back on Quell. He's here, and injured enough that General Secura is determined to find some sort of healer rather than attempt any bits of Jedi healing - a decision made even before Commander Tano's insistence.

Bly is not happy to have three shinies at his back, already dreading their lack of dirtside experience. He would almost prefer to leave them at the camp but they're 327th, not 501st - it's not Captain Rex's job to keep them in line.

He tries his best not to eavesdrop to the conversation between General Secura and Commander Tano, but that is more difficult than it sounds, given that they are walking right in front of him. Bly would almost think that his General is treating them like they're furniture - except, he knows she would never do that. She _has_ to know that he's listening.

(Quietly, he wonders if part of her conversation was actually directed at _him_ and not the Padawan. If she knows of his feelings for her, and is asking him to let them go in the most gentle way she knows how. He knows how much easier it would be if he managed to let them go, how he could better serve the 327th if his heart didn't trip over in his chest every time the General rushed back to try and save a few stragglers. But his thoughts and feelings are his own, and he doesn't want to let them go - _surely_ , as long as he never voices them aloud they can continue as they are?)

It is just their kriffing luck to run across a bunch of carnivorous beasts. He's not surprised at the deaths of his younger brothers but he does regret not leaving them behind. They were so shiny they hadn't even painted their armor yet, even if they had found the time to choose their names. The raw look on General Secura's face as she kneels over Flash's body and checks for a pulse sends a jolt through his heart, but she firms her eyes and gives the order to keep moving.

(He understands. He _does_. They'll come back for the bodies, if they can. If there's even anything left, given the fact that mastiff phalones seem to roam the savannas freely. But he can't help the little shard of bitterness, knowing that they're looking to find help for General Skywalker, and that another number of his men are dead.)

Bly doesn't protest when General Secura orders him to accompany Commander Tano and the civvie back to base camp - he knows his duty. But he also _hates_ leaving his General behind with that _utreekov_ elder, who thinks that because the war is not on his doorstep, he can just ignore it. The thoughts of civilians are usually beyond him, and in this case, he does not even care to attempt seeing from their point of view.

(He takes mild comfort in the fact that even though the elder considered a blaster in the hands of a Clone dangerous, he's clearly never seen a lightsaber in the hands of a Jedi. If the Lurmen try anything against General Secura, it will end in a slaughter.)

That the civvie healer actually manages to do some good for General Skywalker is a relief. It doesn't erase what has happened on this thrice cursed planet, but it might be a sign of their luck turning. When General Secura and Commander Tano return from their walk around the perimeter, Bly is surprised to learn he'll bunking with his General that evening. He figured it would be the other way around - the Jedi keeping watch together while he and Captain Rex shared a berth.

When he mentions this, General Secura pauses, turning to look him in the eye. "Would you prefer that, Commander?" she asks.

Bly is grateful he's still wearing his bucket, as he can feel a flush creeping up his cheeks. "No, sir, I'm just surprised."

The smile she gives him is small, and a little pleased. In the relative privacy of their little pod-hut, she admits, "It feels strange, not to have presence of the 327th around. The way you glow in the Force has become something of a comfort to me."

If it were possible for a Clone to spontaneously combust, Bly might have given it a try. Oh, he _knows_ that General Secura isn't only talking about him, that the presence of the greater numbers of the 327th are what she's referring to, but it still feels intimate. Like a confession that wouldn't survive in the light of day.

"Sir—"

"Please, Bly," she says, while he does his best not to jolt at the sound of his name without his title, "We are both off duty. You can call me Aayla."

There are at least a hundred reasons why he shouldn't, starting with the way his heart is thundering in his chest at the simple permission and implied request. He's not going to say it. It's a familiarity that might be one too many for him, and he knows his limits. He's not going to say it, _he's not going to say it_ —

"Aayla," he says, silently cursing himself for being ten kinds of fool.

The smile that crosses her face is worth every bit of that foolishness.


End file.
